Salt and Ashes: Valentine's Special
by CarryOnMyWaywardDaughters
Summary: Late V-day special. Spn Genderbend. Deanna and Samantha Winchester. Deanna is 16, Sam 11. A guy asks Deanna on a date. John isn't thrilled. Hilarity ensues. Or: How John reacts much differently to his daughters dating than Sam and Dean. Protective!John, Confused Sam. Part of my genderbend series. Sam's opinions of football players are not my own. Rated T for minor language


Deanna cleared her throat, brushing her hair behind her ear in an action that worked better when it was longer. Winchester dinners were usually loud, chatty affairs. Unless, of course, John caught wind of a hunt nearby. Then conversation was muted and brief. Now was one of those times.

Food lying untouched in front of him, John flipped through local newspapers. Some house a few towns over was notorious for its inhabitants murdering each other. Each death followed the murder-suicide of the original owners to a 'T'.

"So, uh, dad?"

John was pretty sure the culprit was the husband's ghost, possessing whichever schmuck struck his fancy, using them to kill a housemate. "Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Uh-huh." Then the ghost made them kill themselves.

"Well, Ryan asked me on a date, and I was wondering if I could go."

Any thought of hauntings and ghost possession vacated John's mind at the word _date_. Immediately, Deanna had his full attention. He blinked rapidly. "Wait, what?"

Not looking up from her food, Sam muttered. "Told ya he wasn't listening." Feet shuffled under the table, and Sam yelped as Deanna kicked her. "Da-ad! Deanna kicked me!"

John lifted his hands up. "Alright, that's enough." He turned back to Deanna, her sister glaring daggers. "Deanna, you were saying?"

"Can I go on a date?"

 _No,_ John immediately thought. Countless reasons and excuses flashed through his mind, all fabricated and contrived. No she couldn't go on a date! What kind of idiot even thought he was good enough for her? Forcing himself to stay rational, he looked levelly at his oldest daughter. Unwilling to outright say yes or no, and fighting the blinding urge to find this boy and kick his ass, he delayed answering. "Do you…want to go?"

"Not if it's a problem."

John stared at Deanna, trying to read her. Her face impassive, unreadable. Well, unreadable to anyone but him. Whenever she tried to dismiss something as no big deal, it _was_ a big deal. Then there was the fact that she was even _asking_ in the first place. Ah hell. Okay, time to make sure this guy wasn't like the last jerkwad. He was doing things right this go around. "Alright then, who is he, how old is he, where are you going, when are you going?"

"Guy from school, seventeen, movies, Friday."

"You sure he's not—"

"A monster? Well, I managed to work 'christo' into a conversation, so he wasn't possessed last I checked." She held up her right hand, where Mary's wedding ring rested on her middle finger. "And the ring is silver, so there's that."

"Well, I was going to say 'a jackass', but…"John smiled, letting her know he was kidding. Good girl, she was being cautious, using her head.

She lit up, grinning from ear to ear. "So, I can go?" Green eyes-her mother's eyes-shone with delight.

John sighed. He couldn't say no to that face, to making her happy after the hell the last year had been. However, paternal instincts roared, chomping at the bit. "Yeah, you can." He lifted a hand to stop her celebrating prematurely. " _But_ , I'm talking to him before you leave."

#

Sam watched her father expertly taking apart his pistol and shotgun from the kitchen. She'd seen him do it countless times before. She even knew how to do it, though she was nowhere near as good as her father and sister. What had her frowning at him was his timing. Maybe he'd forgotten about Deanna's date today. Who was she kidding, of course he forgot. Dad always forgot the important stuff when he was hunting, which was always. She looked at the clock. Dee would be here any minute, Ryan in tow. Well, technically they'd be in Ryan's car, so Ryan would be here with Dee in tow.

A vaguely familiar engine revved. Sam looked out the kitchen window and froze. Speak of the devil…

"Uh, dad?"

John stood, drawing the curtains aside. "I know, Sam. About time." He stared out the window for a few moments, frowning. Crossing quickly to the rickety door of the apartment, he straightened to his full height. Squaring his wide shoulders, he opened the door.

Deanna looked nervous. Which she should be, after that last fiasco of a date. Sam hoped she was wrong, but Ryan had the same cocky attitude as the creep that put Dee in the hospital. He wasn't a football player though, so he had that going for him. Football players were always jerks. The car apparently had its draw, but Sam didn't really get what made it so cool. So what it was red and the top came off, big deal.

The top must've been off on the way here, because Dee's short blonde hair puffed up like a pom-pom. Ryan's hair was also windblown, yet they both still managed to look stylish. It wasn't fair. If Sam's hair got any wind whatsoever she'd come out of it looking like she'd survived a tornado.

"Hey, dad." Deanna shucked her backpack, nudging it out of the doorway with her foot. Hiding her nerves with her trademark cool calm. "This is Ryan. Ryan, this is my dad." She clapped her hands together, a fake smile on her face. "Fantastic, now you know each other, let's go!" She turned to walk out the door.

"Not so fast. I said I wanted to talk to him, not meet him. Park yourselves on the couch."

There it was, that John Winchester 'what I say is law' tone that only an idiot refused. Sam hated it when he used that.

Uh oh. Oooh fantastic. Ryan had seen the weapons on the coffee table. To Sam's surprise, he almost smirked, wiping it off his face immediately. He swaggered over to the couch, sitting with legs spread wide and hands behind his head, like he owned the place. Deanna sat next to him, and he threw an arm around her.

John moved back to the lumpy armchair. Resting elbows on knees, chin on hands, he stared at Ryan. The two hadn't shaken hands. Sam didn't think they would.

"So, whadda you wanna know daddy-o?"

Sam cringed, watching the train wreck unfold from her place at the kitchen counter. Deanna's expression didn't change, but she went red as a valentine. Yeesh, Dee knew how to pick 'em.

Raising an eyebrow, John glanced at Deanna, then back to Ryan. His voice stayed level and cool. "You bought the tickets yet?"

Ryan frowned at the unexpected question. "Uh, no?" he said, the way most people say 'no duh'.

"Good. Cause if you keep giving me that attitude you won't be going at all. Or at least Deanna won't be going with you." His gaze was cold enough to chill lava. He rarely used that tone with his daughters, saving it for anything he deemed a threat. Which spoke volumes on his opinion of Ryan.

Some of that cocky attitude faded, Ryan sitting up straighter, arm twitching closer to Dee. Sam found the movement possessive. She didn't like it. He cleared his throat. "Sorry."

"Better. Now, Ryan, what's the plan?"

That sounded like Dad. Always gotta have a plan. Place, time, cover story, freaking phases of the moon.

"Well, I thought we'd hit the drive-in before the movie, get some milkshakes after. That's about it."

"Good. Now, I've got a few ground rules—"

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

What. An. _Idiot._

John stared at him levelly, eyes narrowing. "Boy, I can and will toss you into that hot rod out there. You dare talk to _her_ like that, and I will kick your skinny ass to kingdom come. Are we clear?"

"…Yeah, we're clear."

"Good. I don't care how cool you think you are, or what you're trying to prove, capiche? Now, as I was saying, ground rules. First, you open doors for her—"

"Dad, I'm perfectly capable of—"

John cut her off, voice still level. "Of course you are. That's not the point. It's a show of respect, that you're _worth_ opening doors for. Don't matter if he thinks he's too cool for it, tonight he's a gentleman." Deanna faltered, turning pink again. John turned his attention back to Ryan. "Second, she's in charge, not you. She says she's done, it's done. You drop everything, you bring her home. I don't care how much money you spend, it doesn't mean you own her. Finally, and pay attention to this one: keep your _damn_ hands to yourself or I will _break them_."

For a moment, it looked like Ryan had a smart remark, but he bit it back, swallowing hard. Still trying to appear nonchalant, he nodded.. "Alright." Okay, he was an idiot, but he was learning. He got partial credit for that.

At some unspoken signal everyone stood. Sam craned her neck to watch as they approached the door.

John nodded at the weapons on the coffee table. "I'll be cleaning these till about eight," –What was he talking about, they wouldn't take that long— "So she best be back before then."

Oh. _Oooh._ Nice.

Ryan and John finally shook hands. Ryan winced as John held, looking him straight in the eyes. "Listen real careful Ryan: I don't have to see you to shoot you, and there's nowhere you could hide where I won't find you. You bring my daughter back safe, got it?"

Deanna covered her face with one hand. Sam sympathized with how humiliating this must be for her, but mostly envious at the attention she was getting.

Ryan's face twisted in pain as John gripped harder. "Yes sir, loud and clear."

"Good." John released his hand, clapping Ryan on the back and launching him forward a few steps. "You two have fun now."


End file.
